


The Leader of The Bull's Chargers

by commanderlurker (honeybee592)



Series: OTP: You're the boss [2]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, First Meetings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-23
Updated: 2017-02-23
Packaged: 2018-09-26 09:52:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9884570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeybee592/pseuds/commanderlurker
Summary: Grace and Bull meet for the first time.Iron Bull's POV -- companion piece to chapter 8 of Far Away So Close, where their meeting is from Grace's POV.(http://archiveofourown.org/works/9129727/chapters/22165046)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on tumblr.
> 
> I've rated this M since there's a bit of gore in relation to an injury Bull receives.

“Glad you could make it,” Krem yelled.

Bull didn’t look up to see the newcomers. Couldn’t afford to get distracted during a fight, especially a fight against Vints. Not that these guys were much of a challenge, but that didn’t mean one of them wouldn’t shove a magical finger into one of those wounds and turn into some eighteen foot tall demon just to claim the advantage. That’s why, _Krem_ , we cleave the bastards in half. Or blow them up so little bits of flesh and bone spray over the battlefield. _Thank you, Rocky._ From what he could tell though, the new help was pretty good. The heavy _thonk_ of a shield meeting armour followed by a squelch and snap of a neck breaking had him smiling.

Meanwhile, his axe met stone as a mage rolled out from under his swing. Slippery bastard. Wouldn’t get far. He pulled his axe free only to feel a twinge in his shoulder. Not a pulled muscle. A sting, sharp, piecing. An arrow? A fucking arrow? None of these Vints had bows and the fletching wasn’t Dalish’s. He took the weight of his axe in one hand and broke the offending fucker off at the skin, swung his axe back up and landed it squarely on the gut of the mage, separating his top half from his bottom in a delightfully messy way. He looked around for his next target to find only allies standing. Easy as.

“Krem, make sure none of these fuckers are still alive, then break out the casks.” Leaving Krem in charge of the dirty work, Bull wandered closer to this Inquisition. Four of them and they looked like a circus act. Even had a dwarf.

He looked them all over and settled on the one with the bow. “So you’re with the Inquisition, huh?” Out of the four, she matched Krem’s description. Grace Trevelyan. Young, but not indecently so. Wide eyed and innocent in that naive way the youngest of a noble house often is. He didn’t bother looking for the mark; her gloves covered both hands.

The hot shield basher sighed, exasperated. “We _are_ the Inquisition.”

Bull started to smile when Krem yelled out, “Throat cutters are done Chief!”

He turned, shouted, “Check them again,” and felt that twinge in his shoulder. Oh, right, that. He pulled the muscle to better see what he was dealing with. Bah. Just an arrow. Sharp, for sure. Pierced deep enough, but not poisoned and nothing that could do much against years and layers of vitaar. Still annoying. He had his dagger in there, digging it out, easing the arrowhead up so its barbs wouldn’t catch further. Once he had it out, he gave it a quick once over. Nicely made. Simple, efficient.

He handed it to Trevelyan. “I believe this is yours.”

“I’m sorry I shot you! Do you want a healing vial? I have plenty.” She took the arrow head and put it in one pocket, then fussed about another.

Whatever she had wouldn’t be up to Stitches’ standards and the wound wasn’t that bad, so he caught her attention.

“Let’s call it an unlucky shot. We all have those. Anyway, it’s nothing my healer can’t fix.”

“Are you sure? I’m very sorry. It should’nt’ve happened. I’m supposed to be quite good with a bow.”

Her forehead wrinkled and her eyes went wider when she rambled. How adorable. Probably not used to shooting moving targets. Probably not used to being out in the wilds and trudging through forests, either. Her companions shuffled further away and that just endeared her to him even more. Definitely not the leader then. Made sense for her to be at that Conclave, being noble. Not much of a public speaker though. There to make up numbers then. How had she survived? That was for Bull to figure out.

“You’re the one they’re calling the Herald,” he said once she’d run out of apologies. She pursed her lips and pain sparked in her eyes. Then she smiled, like she was convincing herself that all was okay.

“I’m Grace. You must be the Iron Bull.”

He shook her offered hand. Nice gloves. Soft leather. He smirked, taking in her features. Without breaking eye contact, he tilted his head back to yell, “Krem, you were right. She does have nice eyes.”

Her blush and Krem’s indignant squeak were worth it. Time to get this deal done. “So, did you like what you saw? Think we’d fit in with you? We’re expensive but we’re the best. Come, let’s talk.” He wandered over to a white weathered length of driftwood and sat down to allow her the upper hand. Humans didn’t like being talked down to. Dwarves were used to it, probably. But he needed in so he made them all comfortable. He was surprised that Grace was the only one to come forward, shoved as she was like a sacrifice towards him. She leaned against a barrel in a way that made her look like she was relaxed, but the specific placement of her elbow on the rim was anything but casual. He waited for her to speak, ask what his deal was. And he waited. And waited. Not a natural negotiator then.

“Okay. I guess I’ll go first. I command this company. We’re hard working and we’re trusted. We don’t break contracts. You hire us, you get the best. And you get me.” Give her the high impact short intro to keep things simple. He’d work out the details with the treasurer later.

“Excellent. You’re hired.”

Bull was too good to let his surprise show but he leaked just enough into his reply to test for traps. “Just like that?”

“Yes. We need help and you’re offering. Is there a catch I’m not getting?”

Bull smiled. Pure and innocent, this one. Too bad he had to give her the bad news. “Funny you should mention the catch. There is one. Have you heard of the Ben-Hassrath?” She shook her head. “They’re qunari spies. Well, _we’re_ qunari spies. I’ve been sent to find out what your Inquisition is up to and to send reports back to my superiors. I won’t send anything that will compromise your operation. Just enough to keep the bosses at home happy. In return I’ll share what information I get from other Ben-Hassrath throughout Orlais.” He watched her reaction closely. Kirkwall had been far enough from Ostwick that she may have avoided most of that clusterfuck, but there was no accounting for all the Tal-Vashoth that had split.

Grace’s face lit up at his mention of spies. “That sounds wonderful. We’ve got agents too. I’m sure Leliana will be delighted to talk with you.”

Uh, what? Had she really just handed that to him on a platter? She shifted and Bull chastised himself for whatever his face had just done. Still, he had a name for the hair now.

“Leliana, you say? She’s a redhead, I’m told.”

“Yes! How did you know?” Grace did a great impression of a puppy.

He tilted his head one way then then other as he stood. “I know many things.” He shook her hand again and turned to his group. Best get this show on the road before the rest of the circus figured out what had happened and vetoed the whole deal.

“Krem, Grim, we got work. Break up camp. You can drink on the road.” The Chargers grumbled, full mugs already in hand, but they knew the score and could pack up one handed. Fight one handed, too, if they had to.

Bull gathered his own gear and replayed the conversation in his head. This mission was about to get interesting.


End file.
